Nylon clad, well turned ankles. That's the first thing in my blurred vision from my perspective on the floor. Nylon clad feet in court shoes. A bit modest compared to Jess' usual look. A feather duster hanging down by her legs. Huh?
"Excuse me sir," - some kind of maybe Philippines accent. "Checkout passed already."
"Shit!" I utter under my breath, confused, but aware that I've overslept and this is clearly a maid shaping up to give the place a good clean ready for the next guest.
"Sorry! Gimme five," I say, hand and fingers out in the international language of 'hold on,' shifting upwards from my lying position until I realise I'm naked underneath.
"No poblem, no poblem," says the maid, a smile as wide as the River Thames.
Shuffling over towards the bathroom toga style as the maid beats a retreat, I search for Jess, who of course is nowhere to be seen in the tiny hotel room. There's no message on my phone either and dialling Jess' cell only gets me nowhere. It's like the line is maybe disconnected.
A sick, heavy feeling in my stomach grows as I frantically search for a clue as to where and why she's gone?
The writing bureaux is where I find it, on the hotel's complimentary yellow pad.
'So sorry Patrick! Got call this AM. Rock band Sleazy Sadie doing new video in NY. Been let down by wardrobe supplier. Paying me big bucks + flight. You wouldn't wake up! Don't worry, you're honour-bound to join me (wink wink). Call their man and he'll get you over here. Jess x x '
I have no idea what to make of it, and where to start, but at least my initial horror at walking around in daylight in my fetish evening wear is dampened when I find my parka long jacket. Now I just look like a random Irish/Scotsmen in winter time! That's not all I find either, Jess having written a number in her bright red lipstick on my inner thigh all the way up to my trapped genitals - which I seriously need to do something about. First though, I input the number into my phone with a view to calling them when I'm outta here.
Jess at least took care of the hotel bill, so wasn't a complete fly by night. I'm sure she's telling me the truth. Why wouldn't she? Its just too random to be made up.
I'm barely out of the hotel, intending to ring the number I'd been given before I get an incoming call, unfortunately not from Jess, but Katie. I'm more than happy to hear from my 'mate' though, always good in a crisis.
"So did she ride you like a racehorse Paddy? Shag you senseless?" she asks without even saying who it was when I pick up.
